


A Wedding Party

by missauburnleaf



Series: The Queen and her Consort [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Dís, Consort Bilbo Baggins, F/F, F/M, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Pregnancy, Queen Dís, Scheming, Traditions, Wedding Fluff, wire-pulling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 01:25:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14905853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missauburnleaf/pseuds/missauburnleaf
Summary: "Her wedding to the hobbit was a splendid affair..." - Dís and Bilbo are getting married.





	A Wedding Party

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments encouraged me to create more fics set in this AU... Enjoy!

" _Love is so close 2 hurting_  
 _With a_ shake _we could wake from our own dreaming_  
 _But we must make a vow_  
 _'Cause I have waited a lifetime_  
 _Now is the right time_ "

(Jewel, _2 become 1_ )

 

 

Her wedding to the hobbit was a splendid affair, with guests from all seven dwarf kingdoms as well as representatives of the other free peoples of Middle Earth.

Bombur and his wife had outdone themselves when preparing the food, including typical dwarven dishes as well as hobbit dishes (and Bilbo had even revealed his late mother's most famous and most secret dishes after Dís had convinced him of it with a very enthusiastic blow job), but also providing enough greens to make the elves happy.

She was wearing a dress she had designed herself when she had still been a silly, little girl, dreaming about love and marriage before reality had bitten her in the ass.

But now she was Queen and finally getting married and so she had every right to make this day memorable for every one, especially herself.

Her dress consisted of several layers of cream-coloured (she couldn't wear white since she wasn't a virgin any more, hadn't been one for decades), precious fabrics, like tull and taffeta and silk and brocade, gold-embroidered and fur-trimmed, with a low-cut bodice, flared skirts, long, puffy sleeves and a ruff made from the finest lace, her head was adorned by a veil made from the same lace and little white flowers. Of course, the lace and flowers she had only added to honour her husband, dwarves normally didn't adorn their clothes with this stuff.

During the ceremony, she couldn't help but notice that Bilbo was nervous, fidgeting, playing with the bronze cuff links she had crafted for him as a courting gift (and he had made a crazy quilt for her - or rather their - bed, including different fabrics and different colours).

At one point she even had to take his hand into hers to soothe him, slightly shaking her head when he questioningly looked at her, while Gandalf was babbling on about the union of different races, the beginning of a new era, true love that conquered all (yeah, sure), wishing them all the luck in the world and blessing their heirs to come (and he didn't know and no one else knew, but she was already with child, she was sure of this, having missed her moonflow twice already, feeling dizzy and sick and there was definitely a slight stretch in her belly), before Balin presented the contract...

It was something they had worked on for a week, she and Balin and Ori and Bilbo.

But now it included all terms and clauses they deemed to be necessary and so she and Bilbo signed it, with Balin as their witness.

And since their's was a cosmopolitan wedding, they included different marriage customs, like the braiding of each other's hair in front of witnesses (all wedding guests in their case, a dwarvish tradition), the exchange of golden rings which had to be worn on the ring finger of their respective left hands, engraved on the inside with each other's names and their wedding date (a hobbit tradition), the drinking of wine from the same silver goblet to which each of them had added a drop of their own blood (obviously an old tradition from Dale).

After all the rituals were done and she and Bibo were officially husband and wife - or the Queen of Erebor and her Consort - it was time for the feast.

Food and drink were plenty, the music was entertaining, alternating between fast, merry tunes, traditional, heroic ballads and slow, pensieve compositions.

Of course, as it was tradition, no one dared to dance before the newlyweds stepped onto the dancefloor, and after Dís and her husband had eaten enough, they did just that.

Dís couldn't help but admire Bilbo's prestine appearance, wearing the clothes she had told him to wear, true to hobbit fashion, yet with unmistakable dwarfish touches, like the fur-trim of his royal blue waistcoat or the mithril shirt (yes _the_ mithril shirt her brother had given to the hobbit in front of all their friends and kin) he was wearing over his white tunic and the black swordbelt with Sting, which was holding his dark grey clamdiggers in place (instead of those ridiculous braces he usually wore).

And then she noticed the giggling and whispering in the Great Hall and at first she thought that people were ridiculing her and her husband, the Mad Queen, as she was called behind her back, especially by Dáin and his entourage since he didn't take it very well that she would rather share her bed with a creature like the hobbit than with him, but then she realized that all gazes were directed towards the Pincess of Dale, King Bard's oldest daughter, and her elven bodyguard or handmaid or whatever who were also on the dancefloor by now, sporting richly ornamented, ruffled yellow dresses.

Yellow.

The colour of whores, at least in dwarven culture.

Dís knew the lasses personally, had already indulged in a glass or two of potent wine with them at so called diplomatic gatherings.

She knew that they had been dear to her late sons; her little Kíli had been definitely in love with the elf-maid, according to eye-witness reports, and her beautiful Fíli had obviously considered courting the human girl.

So, was their choice of dresses simply a faux-pas due to cultural differences?

There was only one way to find out...

"Excuse me, Bilbo, I have to attend to something," she whispered into her husband's ear, inhaling his fresh scent of grass and wind and sun.

The hobbit bowed to her, then he retreated back to their seats at the High Table, certainly helping himself to another glass of Dorwinion wine since her comment must have sounded like some kind of rejection to him.

But she didn't have time for this now.

She had to avoid some possible diplomatic crisis.

"Princess Sigrid, Lady Tauriel," Dís greeted the girls when approaching them, who immediately turned their attention to her, blushing slightly.

"Your Majesty," Sigrid said, courtseying, followed by a slight bow from Tauriel, who mumbled, "My Queen."

Dís couldn't help but smile.

They were good girls, both of them, and while Sigrid definitely had been taught how to deal with royalty, the elf seemed to have not, at least not with royalty from a different realm.

"I'm not your queen, lass," she answered softly and the elf blushed a deeper shade of red.

"It's alright, no harm done, at least not with words... Your dresses, however... Why did you choose to wear this colour?" she demanded to know and the girls exchanged a glance.

"Your Majesty, upon arival here, in the mountain, a seamstress had been so generous to provide us with those dresses, saying that she had made them especially for us, to honour who we are, what we meant to the late princes, and she said that refusing them would mean a great insult to you and your people," Sigrid finally revealed.

Dís pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. "And who, pray tell, was that seamstress?" she inquired.

Sigrid and the elf exchanged a look. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but we didn't ask..." she answered.

Dís nodded. "It's okay, lass, it's not your fault, but I fear that someone has dared to play a trick on you and me with the provision of those dresses. The colour is not a very highly esteemd one in our culture... So, I advise you to change... You have something to change into, don't you?" she asked.

Tauriel and Sigrid exchanged another glance.

"Of course, we have the dresses we brought with us to the mountain, the dresses we had originally intended to wear," Sigrid explained.

Dís sighed with relief. Crisis averted!

"So, Princess Sigrid, Lady Tauriel, I fear I have to ask you to change, for your own dignity's sake," she declared and the girls looked at each other again (and Dís didn't know why but their constant silent communication unsettled her somehow) before Sigrid replied with another courtsey, "Of course, Your Majesty, as you wish."

Dís gave them a half smile before turning on her heel, heading to the High Table in order to resume her wedding dance with her husband, who, admittedly, meanwhile looked rather tipsy, apparently drowing his insecurities in wine.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Dís's wedding dress is inspired by the style of typical 16th/17th hundred (wedding) dresses.  
> With regard to Tauriel's and Sigrid's yellow dresses, I adopted the myth that in medieval times prostitutes wore yellow clothes or - to be more precisely - that prostitutes were supposed to were something yellow on their clothes...
> 
> I'm curious about what you think of this fic!


End file.
